Like breath,
people feel distance.
Away, far: light sleep,
falling feels forgotten. We’ve
really make
love. Days. Words. Sky.
Morning: dark.
Stay solid,
eat remoteness. Space:
impending decline.
Children asleep long:
Hands. Eyes.
Tongue won’t
slow stagnant works.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
Like breath,
people feel distance.
Away, far: light sleep,
falling feels forgotten. We’ve
really make
love. Days. Words. Sky.
Morning: dark.
Stay solid,
eat remoteness. Space:
impending decline.
Children asleep long:
Hands. Eyes.
Tongue won’t
slow stagnant works.
Same concept as previous poem. This one about my wife.
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